


Keeping Grounded

by BornToFly02



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: LLI, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, Low Latent Inhibition, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Tactile, married coldwave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:28:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25721350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BornToFly02/pseuds/BornToFly02
Summary: A common misconception, that was heavily encouraged by the object of said misconception, was that Leonard Snart was as cold and detached as his super villain persona. He never confirmed it but he never corrected those who assumed, it wasn't his job to state the obvious.A.K.A. Leonard Snart has some tactile tendencies
Relationships: Leonard Snart & Lisa Snart, Leonard Snart & Team Legends, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart
Comments: 4
Kudos: 135





	Keeping Grounded

When Leonard Snart was young, his mother called him Leo. Her little lion. She died when he was nine, caught in a car accident with a drunk driver while trying to leave Lewis. Len could still remember crawling out the window of their totaled car and trying to pull her out the drivers side.

She smiled and apologized to him even as her skin unusually paled from blood loss. Little Leo could see everything in excruciating detail. The places where the metal had warped, trapping his mother in. The gas spilling out to flow among the broken glass decorating the pavement. The bruises marring his mother's darker skin, the glazed look that overtook her eyes as her chest rattled with her last breath.

"Be brave my little lion."

But he wasn't brave.

He saw the gasoline, the flickering flames illuminating the horrific scene, and scrambled backwards. It was a lot. Too much, and his brain started checking out. He scratched his hands across the ground, mind going over the scene again and again to find another way. Tracks of blood tracked possibilities of reactions he was already too late to try.

Later he would vaguely recall a man carrying him farther from the wreck before it could combust and take him with it.

That was one of the first times that Leonard's condition caused him to disassociate.

* * *

It wasn't the last time. 

Not long after his mother's death, Lewis got Leonard to start helping on jobs. His hands were small enough to slip into tight spots and there was no one around to protect the child from being forced into a life of crime.

Leonard was almost ten when his father brought a new girlfriend home. She was kind to him. An aspiring actress with bright eyes and a big heart. She was aware of Lewis' unlawful tendencies but held a romanticized vision of it, like that of a glamorous mafia movie where the men wore suits and showered their women in riches and love. The first few months that she lived with them, Lewis eased up. Bruises faded from the young boy's skin and his dad started acting like a dad but he knew it'd never last. Sure enough, Lewis went out on a job that didn't go well and the next day she came into the kitchen with a bruise on her cheek, her smile a little less bright than before.

She was the one that got him a diagnosis, probably hoping that a proper explanation of his... tendancies would stop Lewis from being so mad about it. It didn't but Leonard appreciated the sentiment.

A little bit of kleptomania but also a serious case of Low Latent Inhibition which was then combined with a high IQ. In short, he was diagnosed as a creative genius. His brain took in everything around him. Where most people would see a lamp, he saw everything that went into it that made is a lamp. Of course he was still a child but Lewis saw the diagnosis as further reason to beat his son when "Leonard" messed something up.

The woman stayed for a while, long enough to give Leonard a little sister and see him sent off to juvie at fourteen years old, set up to take the fall for a job by his own father. Once he served his time and was let out, he found Lisa alone with Lewis and immediately placed himself into the roll of protector. Thankfully by then, he had gained a true protector of his own.

* * *

One of Leonard's coping mechanisms was through touch.

His LLI could sometimes leave him trapped in his own head, sometimes bringing on full dissociative episodes. So, to keep himself in the here and now, he taught himself to recognize those episodes before they arrived and anchor himself with different textures.

He would braid Lisa's hair, run his fingers along the spines of leather-bound books, anything to bring his mind back to the world around him.

It was that coping mechanism, that was admittedly a bit of compulsion what with the Kleptomania, that led to him meeting Mick. He hadn't quite been in for a day when he pocketed something from the wrong kid. Four of them cornered him at lunch.

With all the practice from his father, Leonard knew to protect his head and ribs as best he could. It became unfeasible once he was dragged up off the ground and the ringleader pulled out a shiv. It was crude, Leonard could instantly see several ways to improve it but shoved that aside as best he could to focus on his imminent demise. A quick hit to the head left him dazed, stopping his struggling. He could only hope that Lisa and her mom would be alright as he flinched back, expecting the sharp pain that didn't come.

Instead, a deep voice yelled and suddenly he was dropped. Rolling groggily, Leonard looked to see a larger boy taking care of his attackers. Once they were down, he came over to try and help him up. When that didn't work, the older boy simply lifted him up and started for the infirmary.

Leonard passed out part way there and when he woke up his defender wasn't there. He spent the next couple days asking around quietly finding that the boy was Mick Rory. A pyromaniac, he was in there for arson. A little over a week later he approached the pyro despite the fact that literally everyone else steered clear and handed him a silver lighter he'd taken off a guard.

They didn't often speak but the pair was inseparable after that. The guards ended up moving them into a cell together seeing as putting anyone else in with Rory could easily end badly. It didn't take long for Mick to notice his more tactile tendencies, or his episodes where he couldn't stand the contact of another human being. They fell into an easy, unspoken routine where Mick was always there and Len ("I'm not calling you Leonard") was free to initiate any contact when needed. The klepto was particularly fixated on the strange texture of burn scars.

Len was let out first, Mick not too long after. They had their issues but they worked.

* * *

The rings that became their wedding bands were an impulse grab during a heist gone wrong.

Len had spent weeks planning the heist. Casing the place, checking and double-checking the guard schedules. Mick had to pull him out of his own head several times during that period, making sure he ate, stayed hydrated, and got some actual sleep. Everything was planned to the second, there was no way it could've gone wrong, if not for the fact that the alarm system had been changed so close to the job that Len didn't even know until he was trying to disable it within a limited time-frame.

As he and Mick were making their escape, the silver caught his eye and he grabbed the pair without thought. The sirens that faded the further they got kept them going until they'd escaped the sound completely.

"What the hell is that?" Mick asked as he pulled the car into an alley to be ditched and looked over at his partner.

Len had been absently running his thumb over the cold metal absently as his mind furiously went over what went wrong. The Pyro's voice dragged him out enough to notice what he held.

"Guess I must've grabbed these on the way out." Len said, voice carefully blank. Just because Mick knew about his tendencies, doesn't mean he liked them himself.

The pyro grunted before smirking at his partner in crime.

"Well, you always did like souvenirs."

* * *

Len stood right next to Mick, listening to their new "teammates" talk about their upcoming excursion. The lack of proper plans was sending his LLI into overtime and it was making the thief twitchy. 

Mick pressed a little closer, which Len took as an invitation to slip a hand up his partner's sleeve to run deft fingers along the textured burn scars that covered the pyromaniac. The rough feeling under his hand helped to ground him long enough for the little meeting to wrap up so he could retreat into their room.

He sat on the bed slowly, taking care to keep his breathing even as he ran his fingers along the blankets.

"You still sure about this, Boss?" Mick asked, moving to stand between Len's legs, a strong wall blocking out the world.

Len sighed and leaned forward to rest his head against his partners torso.

"I can admit that I may not have thought this through as thoroughly as I could have."

Mick chuckled and laid a hand on the back of the younger man's neck, helping to steady him further.

"'s alright Boss. You'll figure it out. Got that stupid sayin' of yours. Make a plan, execute the plan,"

"Throw away the plan." Len finished with a smirk.

He knew he wasn't what anyone expected. There were many times that he wished he was more like everyone else assumed he was but in the end it didn't really matter. For as many super powered people as there were on this time ship...

...he was still the coolest.


End file.
